The Courier
by kittytrypsin
Summary: One of the away team is forced to deliver some information, but time is running out. Can Dr Mendos save Trip? Story finally completed with chapters twelve and thirteen.
1. Default Chapter

THE COURIER

Disclaimer#1    Paramount owns the original characters; I'm only borrowing them.

Disclaimer#2    No profit is being made from these ramblings (I wish).

Archive            Gladly, just let me know where.

A/N                 _'italics'_ indicates people's thoughts.

                        **Mycros is the planet featured in "Dead Ringer"-plug, plug.

CHAPTER ONE

Captain Jonathon Archer was reclining on the bunk in his quarters, reading a novel, with his beagle pup, Porthos, snuggled on his chest, enjoying a little one-to-one attention from his busy master.

Enterprise, Star Fleet's flagship, was currently travelling through unchartered space, and for several days now, they'd failed to turn up a single item of interest. Duty rosters had continued as normal, but nearly everyone on the ship was getting more than a little bored.

The exceptions to this were the Denobulan Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Phlox and the Vulcan Science Officer, T'Pol. Phlox kept a small menagerie of exotic pets in sickbay, and the lull in human occupants allowed him to utilise his time in cleaning out the animal cages. And according to T'Pol, Vulcans didn't get bored!

John sighed as he came to the end of his novel. Scooping Porthos off his chest, he rolled off the bed.

"Come on, boy, let's go visit Trip, see if he wants to watch some water polo."

Porthos recognised by his master's actions that they were going 'walkies', and that was fine by him. He raced ahead of the captain, looking back every now and then to make sure his human keeper hadn't got lost. The little dog's tail wagged hugely, a study in perpetual motion, as he ran through the corridors. 

Before long, his master called him to a halt outside a familiar door. Porthos sniffed happily at the door and bounded into the room as soon as it opened. John grinned at the slightly dishevelled figure of his best friend, Commander Charles 'Trip' Tucker III, Enterprise's chief engineer. Trip swallowed a yawn when he recognised his visitors.

"Hi, Cap'n, come on in. What brings you out so late? Hey, Porthos, get off my bed!"

John stepped into the untidy quarters and gave Trip an assessing look. The younger man was still recovering from the severe beating he'd received on Mycros** and hadn't yet returned to full active duty.

"Just a social call to see how you're feeling. We've missed you at dinner for a while."

The 'we' was the captain and the Sub-Commander. The three officers usually ate their evening meal in the captain's private mess room, engaging in many a verbal sparring match, often between Trip and T'Pol. John loved to watch the sparks fly between his two most senior officers, and often wondered was there perhaps a physical attraction behind the arguments? He knew better than to suggest it to T'Pol, and he could imagine his friend's reaction if he even suggested that Vulcan-baiting was a prelude to romance!!

"I'm fine, Cap'n, I guess I just haven't got my appetite back, fully. But Doc assures me I'm doin' ok, an' I'll be back to full duties in another coupla days." Trip's soft Southern accent reassured John, even though his friend still looked a little peaky around the edges.

"What's the rush? It's not as if we're doing anything to strain the engineering department. There's just nothing out there to explore. Take as long as you need."

Trip grinned as he handed John a beer.

"Normally I'd be bored, too, but I've been kinda glad to have it quiet until I get back onto my feet again. I don't like anybody takin' pot-shots at us if I'm not there to keep an eye on the warp reactor."

"You're worse than a mother hen with that reactor. You've a perfectly good engineering team, doing just fine without you, Commander!"

Trip grinned at the analogy; he just didn't trust **anyone** else to look after his precious engines.

"Yeah, whatever, but I guess you can take only so much peace an' quiet. I've no doubt we'll find somethin' excitin' around the next corner."

^*^*^*^*^*^

Two days later, John called his senior officers to the situation room. He looked around as they arrived, eagerness for adventure shining in the eyes of Trip, Hoshi and Travis, with a degree of caution from Malcolm, and the customary blank canvas that was T'Pol's face.

"Hoshi, how's the translation coming along?"

Ensign Sato, Linguistics and Communications Officer, nodded as she spoke.

"Nearly there, Captain. It's a complex language, but basically when it's broken down, it's a synthesised voice sending out a hail on a loop, repeating itself over and over again. It's inviting travellers to stop off at the source, which appears to be a deep space station close by. I tried to send a response, but I don't think anyone's actually listening."

"Ok, good work. T'Pol, does the Vulcan database have anything on this station?"

T'Pol stood with her hands clasped behind her. "Affirmative, Captain. This is a multi-racial, multi-cultural meeting place with a high crime rate. I would advise against visiting it, but should you choose to do so, I would recommend extreme caution at all times."

"Aw, Sub-Commander, haven't you any spirit of adventure?" Trip's drawl sounded in her ear, too close for comfort. His accent seemed heavier than usual, done deliberately to provoke a response from her. T'Pol's elegant eyebrow arched as she turned to face her challenger.

""I would have thought that your most recent experiences might have dampened your own spirit of adventure, Commander, or does your head require frequent blows to remind you?"

"Nah, I don't need a blow to the head when I've got you, darlin'," Trip responded, smarting.

John sighed. Life on ship could never truly be described as dull when his two senior officers got started on each other.

"Ok, let's keep this civilised. We'll send a small away team in pairs. Watch each other's backs at all times, and keep in touch with each other and the ship. T'Pol, you're with me. Trip, you and Malcolm team up. Malcolm, break out some phase pistols and we'll meet in the shuttle bay in two hours. Travis, bring us into orbit around the station as soon as we arrive. Dismissed."

T'Pol considered the captain's decision to visit this place as foolhardy, but she wasn't entirely surprised by his actions. These humans were extremely inquisitive and their mission brief had been defined as seeking out new worlds and civilisations. Well, they'd certainly get their fill now.

TBC

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	2. Chapter two

THE COURIER

Disclaimer#1 Paramount owns the original characters; I'm only borrowing them.

Disclaimer#2 No profit is being made from these ramblings (I wish).

Archive Gladly, just let me know where.

A/N _'italics'_ indicates people's thoughts.

CHAPTER TWO

The shuttlepod had docked with the space station and the four crewmembers were exploring the level they'd disembarked on. They'd only been on the station for ten minutes and already they'd lost count of the number of unfamiliar races they'd encountered.

"T'Pol, have you ever seen anything like this before?" John asked.

T'Pol turned to address the captain. "I have visited other space stations before, but this is larger. Logic would dictate that the larger the station, and the deeper in space it is situated, the greater the number of races inhabiting it."

"A simple 'yes' woulda done, ya know," Trip answered, sarcastically. 

John decided he needed to put some distance between them before one of his officers said something they might regret.

"Trip, you and Malcolm head east, we'll go west. Keep your heads up and don't forget to check in regularly."

The parties separated and John breathed a silent sigh of relief as he and T'Pol continued in companionable silence. The station **was** huge, with many diverse levels, twists and turns. They travelled in turbo-lifts from floor to floor, observing the social interactions unfolding before them, and the many species for which this alien place was home.

Trip and Malcolm had covered fairly similar ground and were presently standing open-mouthed, watching two alien females slugging it out in the centre of a small crowd. It couldn't have been described even loosely as sport, but it had certainly attracted a lot of attention.

Trip, raised by his strong mother to respect women, couldn't stand idly by while two 'ladies' tried to beat each others' brains in, and was on the edge of the crowd, about to push through.

"Commander," Malcolm called, warningly. "Sir, this isn't anything to do with us. For all we know, this could be perfectly acceptable behaviour."

"Acceptable? Ya call this acceptable? Where I come from, ladies don't go pokin' each other in the eyes."

"Yes, but where you come from is a very long way from here. Sir, please?"

Trip grumbled in acknowledgment of the sense Malcolm was making. There was no point in meddling in something he knew nothing about.

"Ok, ok, lead on, I'm right behind ya."

Malcolm moved off again in the direction they'd been heading before the floorshow had interrupted them. He smiled cautiously at the strange faces looming at him.

"You know, Commander, you really must learn to control your inclinations to rush into unknown situations. Some day your curiosity's going to bite you on the bum."

He turned round to see the reaction on Trip's face, but his own face was a study in bewilderment: Trip Tucker was nowhere to be seen!

^*^*^*^*^*^

Malcolm looked around, frantically, yelling the commander's name. He used his communicator to try to reach him, but got no reply. There were alien forms brushing past him on all sides, as he stood in the centre of the aisle like an island. He strained to see past them, frantic for a sight of Trip's blond head, or a glimpse of the Star Fleet uniform.

Reluctantly, he resigned himself to the fact that Commander Tucker had disappeared, and as he wasn't responding, was most likely unable to. He activated his communicator again.

"Reed to Captain Archer."

"Archer, go ahead, Malcolm."

"Sir, I'm afraid that Commander Tucker and I have got separated and he's not responding to a hail."

"Oh for crying out loud…Ok, stay put in case he turns up. Give me your exact location and we'll join you."

Malcolm looked at the wall behind him for some indication of his whereabouts. 

"We're on level 5 east, subsection B, about halfway along a wide promenade."

"Alright, Malcolm, keep trying the com., we'll be with you as soon as we can. Archer out."

Malcolm looked around apprehensively, seeing spooks everywhere, menace around every corner. _'Trip, why does it always happen to you? You're like a magnet to trouble!'_

A nagging self-doubt was eating at him: he was the security officer, and knowing the commander's propensity for attracting trouble, he should have kept him within eyeshot at all times.

After about ten minutes, all of which seemed to Malcolm to last an eternity, John and T'Pol appeared at his elbow.

"Still nothing, Malcolm?"

"No, sir, I've tried the communicator several times."

John looked around at the melting pot of assorted aliens thronging the promenade.

"Ok, Malcolm, tell me exactly what happened."

"There was a…catfight taking centre stage just over there. We stopped briefly, and Commander Tucker wanted to break it up, but I persuaded him to walk away. He assured me that he was right behind me, but when I turned back, he was missing. I'd only turned away from him for a minute."

John could tell that Malcolm was berating himself badly. He clapped the solemn man on the shoulder.

"Take it easy, Malcolm, it could have happened to any one of us. Have you tried getting the ship to scan for his bio signs?"

"I thought of that, Captain, but now I can't get through to Enterprise. Perhaps there's something blocking the communicators' signals."

T'Pol had remained silent, watching the human interactions. The tricorder in her hand had also failed to locate Commander Tucker, but given the sheer volume of bodies circulating, that was hardly surprising.

"Captain, we should return to the shuttlepod and attempt to contact the ship from there."

"Ok, T'Pol, you go. If you still can't get through, take the 'pod back to Enterprise and see what you can do to find Trip. Malcolm and I'll keep looking."

"That is ill-advised, Captain. One or both of you may fall prey to whatever happened to the commander."

John gave her a hard stare, and then shook his head. "I know, and if I'd listened to your advice we wouldn't be in this mess, but we **are**, so let's make the best of it. I'm hardly going to call off the search after falling at the first hurdle. Come back for us in four hours."

TBC

Please read and review. All comments are welcome. Thank you.


	3. chapter three

CHAPTER THREE

Trip screwed his eyes shut as soon as he'd opened them, the harshness of the light painful. For whatever reason, someone was shining a bright light directly into his face. The light cast dark shadows, making it impossible for him to see anyone behind it.

He shook his head to try to clear the muzziness in it, wondering **why** his head should be muzzy, and **why** he was sitting in a strange room, bound hand and foot? He wasn't gagged, so he decided to exercise his lungs.

"Hey, lemme outta here! Hello? Need some help, here!"

His only reply was silence. He thought back to the last thing he could remember, vaguely recalling a fight that he and Malcolm had stopped to watch.**_ '_**_Malcolm! Was he ok, was he maybe tied up like him, maybe even next door?'_

"Hey, Malcolm! Can ya hear me?" 

Getting no response, his thoughts went back to the fight. Malcolm had urged him to walk away, against his better judgement, and he **had** been, only to feel something sharp and painful connect with the back of his neck. After that, all he knew was waking up to that blasted light.

He struggled against his bonds, but realised fairly quickly that he wasn't going anywhere, soon. Whoever, or whatever had tied him up had secured his legs not together, but to the front legs of the hard seat he was sitting on. His toes cramped a bit as he realised the bonds were very tight. His hands were secured behind his back, and when he flexed his fingers, he felt them tingle, too.

'Great, Tucker, here ya are, once again singled out for whatever nefarious reason, and now you're gonna lose your extremities into the bargain!'

"Hey, c'mon, lemme outta here," he yelled, again and again, his only companion the silence which seemed to mock him.

^*^*^*^*^*^

John and Malcolm had begun a systematic search of the area round them. They'd decided against splitting up, and this slowed their search, but that couldn't be helped. They'd had no contact from T'Pol, confirming that interference was affecting their communicators, and already they'd been searching for one hour. John was worried for his friend, anxious to know who had taken him, and why. 

He looked at the faces of the people passing by. Most were totally alien, but a few were humanoid. Perhaps Trip had been mistaken for someone else. Somewhat belatedly, he thought of seeking out some form of authority on the station and reporting the situation. By using the UT he obtained directions from one of the humanoids for the location of the station's Constable.

They were loath to leave the original site, but John realised that they weren't going to find Trip without help. They took the turbo-lift to the next level and found themselves outside a grey door. 

John's heart sank when he looked at the man who opened the door to their knock; he was a Tandoran! They were invited into the office, and the two men entered with some trepidation.

"Ah, the famous Captain Archer of the earth vessel Enterprise. You're making quite a reputation out here. Colonel Grat wishes to be remembered, and looks forward to the day he might meet you again."

John felt alarm at the mention of the man he'd made an enemy of some months ago. This could be very awkward, indeed. The Tandaran watched the human's expression.

"Relax, Captain, I don't actually share Colonel Grat's views on the Suliban. Not all Sulibans are in the Cabal, and not all Tandorans are like the colonel. Now, to your present problem…about one hour ago we received an anonymous message to this office, addressed to a Star ship captain. Until you came through my door with the tale of your missing engineer, I was at a loss as to whom it was for. We have so many ships calling at our station that it's virtually impossible to keep track of everyone here."

He handed over a message padd and John keyed the information with trepidation. It would have to be about Trip; no one else knew Enterprise was calling at the station.

The writing on the padd was in an alien language, which Constable Fee was able to translate. It was informative to a certain degree, but left as many questions unanswered.

'"I have information regarding your crewman. Meet me on level 4 east, subsection 2 as soon as possible. Do not involve the constable any further if you wish to retrieve your missing person."' The message was unsigned.

"I know you'll be keeping this appointment, Captain, and I can't blame you for that, but I'll provide a discreet back-up from a distance. This is my turf, and I don't like anyone abusing my authority!" Fee seemed genuinely annoyed, and John was only too happy to accept his offered assistance.

^*^*^*^*^*^

The aliens on the station seemed to hold Constable Fee in high regard as they parted to let him through. Many called out a greeting, which the man acknowledged in a friendly manner. He explained that it made his job easier to keep the natives on his side. John and Malcolm followed like a flotilla, taking in the expressions of the aliens around them. Perhaps some of them knew Trip's whereabouts, and maybe even some of them had had a hand in his disappearance!

It didn't take long to reach the rendezvous point and John looked round, anxious to make contact. Fee arranged to see what he could find out from some of his contacts, and moved away far enough to be out of the picture, but still keep an eye on developments.

John felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down into the innocent face of a young girl. She handed him a padd and he was surprised that it was in English.

"'We have learned your language. Follow this child, and come alone if you want your crewman back.'"

John looked at the small figure moving away through the crowd, and he just had time to yell at Malcolm.

"Stay with the Constable, Lieutenant. I've made contact and hopefully will be back soon."

With that, he was gone, swallowed instantly by the throng of bodies on the promenade, before Malcolm had a chance to object.

TBC

Please read and review, even if it's criticism. 

Sorry that this chapter was so 'wordy', but sometimes you need scene-fillers.


	4. Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR

John had lost track of the number of turns his journey had taken since leaving the promenade. The hustle and bustle had faded to silence, and the soft scuff of his small guide's feet was all there was to hear. She turned to smile at him from time to time, making sure that he was still following, leading him deeper into the bowels of the station.

After about ten minutes of travel, she stopped suddenly outside a non-descript doorway, and when John looked at her questioningly, she merely nodded. He took a deep breath before testing the handle, and on finding it opening to his touch, edged cautiously into the room. The brightness of the light startled him at first, but the sight of his Chief Engineer strapped to a chair was even more startling.

Trip had his chin on his chest, seemingly asleep, and John's mouth went dry as he looked around the small room for a third party. When no one was visible, he rushed forward.

"Trip, you ok?"

Trip slowly opened bleary eyes and gave the captain a weary grin.

"Cap'n, glad you could stop by." His voice was slightly hoarse from the hours he'd spent yelling for help, and his body ached from being forced to sit still for so long in that cramped position.  "What's goin' on, anyway?"

"Don't you know?"

"I haven't seen anybody to ask. The last thing I remember's bein' stuck in the back of the neck, then wakin' here in the waitin' room from hell, trussed like a Thanksgivin' turkey. D'ya think there's a cosmic conspiracy out there to get Tucker, no matter what it takes?"

John was busying himself, trying to undo the bindings on his friend's limbs.

"I don't know, Trip, but sometimes it certainly seems like it…I can't get these off, they're too strongly bonded. I'll need to find something to cut them with."

"Guess I'll just wait here, Cap'n, but don't forget to come back."

"Your Captain won't need to go anywhere, I'll release you presently." 

The two officers had been so intent on working on Trip's bindings that neither man had seen or heard the newcomer's arrival. 

They took in the humanoid's appearance. He was male, of average height and build, but with a distinctive, unforgettable face. A ridge divided his face in two, running from the centre of his forehead, down over the tip of his nose, and ending on his top lip. The eyes were yellow and cold, and the pupils were reptilian. He held an ugly-looking hand weapon, which he had trained on John. He spoke again, a little haltingly, as if finding the words difficult to form.

"Thank you for your punctuality, Captain. I apologise for these melodramatics, but I need a small service from you and your ship, and for that I borrowed your crewman."

"Borrowed?" Trip spat. He was fed up with being the fall guy for every crazy loon in the galaxy. He'd signed on to Enterprise to keep her running smoothly, to nurse and cajole the engines into giving their best, and what had he got for his troubles? 'Bash Tucker' time, in triplicate.

John didn't like where the conversation was leading. If this alien thought that he wouldn't co-operate without some threat to Trip hanging over his head, he figured he wasn't going to be too keen on hearing what the service was.

"What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Just a little delivery, nothing more. I was in possession of some vitally important information, which I need urgently delivered to my home planet, some light years from here. I don't have access to a warp-capable vessel of my own, so I've…borrowed yours."

"You said you **were** in possession. That implies that someone else is in possession of it now."

"Patience, Captain, I'm coming to that. Your crewman…"

"I suppose you're going to tell me that if I refuse to help you, you'll kill Commander Tucker?" John interrupted.

"A Commander? I chose well. It's always helpful to have someone of importance as your bargaining chip, don't you think? No, I won't do anything like that, and you'll understand why if I may continue. I'm only too happy to release the commander, because **he's** now in possession of said information."

"I am? Since when?" Trip was getting dizzy trying to keep up with the ping-pong conversation taking place over his head.

"Shortly after you were delivered to me, I inserted an implant into your bloodstream. It's a chemical compound which, when removed and analysed, will reveal its secrets to the educated eye. However, in order to prevent this information falling into the wrong hands, it can only be safely removed by someone in possession of a 'key'."

"And who has that?" John could feel his anger rising. This alien was so glibly messing with other peoples' lives, and he hadn't given any thought to whether his implant might adversely affect Trip. Trip's mouth had taken on the qualities of a freshly landed trout.

"Your contact on my home world, a trustworthy individual called Mendos.  I'll give you all the information you'll need to make the delivery in good time. I'll be sending you on your way very soon, as I must caution you that the implant will start to degrade over time. I'm not familiar with your physiology, but the courier normally has seven days to make a safe journey. After that, or if an attempt is made to remove it without the key, the implant will implode. Death will be instantaneous."

TBC

Please R/R, and thank you for all the nice things you've said thus far. Kind reviews are like nectar from the gods. 

I'm also trying to balance between fleshing it out a bit more to please those of you who think my style too terse, and not boring myself with unimportant 'jaw-jaw'. I tend to skim-read over descriptive parts in all other stories, always have. Sorry.


	5. chapter five

CHAPTER FIVE

John's gut instinct was to smash the man's head against the wall, to take the alien's weapon and shove it into his throat and force him to remove the implant from Trip's blood. For an instant, he almost did it, but the man was talking again.

"I know you think all you have to do is have me remove the information, but I don't have the key. This is a sensitive matter, Captain. The information will save countless lives. My planet is in the middle of an ugly war, which we are losing. Without the information that Commander Tucker is carrying, many people will die. Is it too much to ask you to make a small detour from wherever you were heading?"

"Ya might have asked!" Trip felt it was time he added his two cents' worth.

"I might have, indeed, but I couldn't take the risk of you refusing. After you've delivered the data, you'll all be free to resume your…explorations. Just consider this an adventure along the way."

"And what about your contact, Mendos? Will he be happy to just let us walk away?" John had never felt so helpless.

"There's no reason for him not to, but as I see it, you've little option. The deed is done, and if you refuse, you condemn the commander by your own hand."

Trip had been listening with a pounding heart and dry mouth, as his life was discussed in black and white. He wanted to yell, hit something or someone very hard, but most of all, he just wanted to get out of here.

"Cap'n, let's go. If I've only got seven days before I go 'kaboom', I don't want to waste them hangin' around here."

The alien nodded. "A wise decision, Commander. You have an adventure ahead of you, with who knows what obstacles to overcome before you reach your destination. It would be better not to be wasting time here." 

"And who do we say to Mendos that you are?" John asked, not unreasonably, he thought.

"He'll know, but in case you fall into hostile hands, I'll keep that information to myself. If my cover's blown here, I'll no longer be able to filter out the vital data that I presently can. I'm sorry, I don't mean to be any more devious than I already have been, but this is to protect all of us. There will be forces out there that will try anything to prevent you from getting this data delivered. Be alert!"

The alien produced a small laser and severed his captive's bonds. Trip stood stiffly, trying not to gasp as the blood coursed through his numbed extremities, sending vicious pins and needles along his nerve endings. John placed his hand on his friend's shoulder to support him.

"Ok, you've got your messenger service, but if anything happens to Commander Tucker, I'll find you, no matter what rock you're hiding under. That's a promise!"

^*^*^*^*^*^.

Enterprise was under way, the new co-ordinates entered into the helm's computer. The senior officers were gathered in the captain's ready room, and their faces were grim as he apprised them of the situation. They looked at Trip with faces showing a mixture of sympathy and horror. Ordinarily, Trip hadn't a problem with being the centre of attention. As a handsome young man, he was well used to it, but this was different and it made him very uncomfortable.

Malcolm, especially, was having a hard time coming to terms with the situation.

"Commander, I'm so dreadfully sorry. I was supposed to be your back up, and I let you down. What sort of Security Officer am I that I can't even protect on a one-to-one basis?"

Trip felt compassionately for his too-serious friend; once before he'd called him a grim reaper, and he was determined not to let Malcolm slip back into his black moods. The others weren't much happier.

"Hey guys, I'm not dead yet. Let's put the long faces on hold for a while, huh?"

Even T'Pol seemed affected. "I am sorry for your predicament, Commander. I will assist the doctor in ascertaining if there is anything that can be done to remove the implant."

Trip simply nodded, embarrassed to his core.  John dismissed them, but stopped Trip as he was about to leave.

"You stopped off at sickbay, yet?"

"Nah, what's the point of wastin' the Doc's time an' mine? He doesn't have this key, an' we both know what's gonna happen if he tries anythin' without it. Anyway, I'm better keepin' busy, makin' sure the engines don't decide to pack up."

"Still, I'd feel happier if you kept in close contact with him, Trip. We don't know what way this might affect you."

"Ok, I'll stop off with him on the way to Engineerin' if it makes ya happy. But I feel fine. Maybe that guy was spinnin' us a line just to get us to do his dirty work."

^*^*^*^*^*^

Dr Phlox, the Denobulan Chief Medical Officer, had encountered a large variety of alien races, but he was unfamiliar with the readings he was getting from Commander Tucker's blood analysis. He crossed to the intercom.

"Captain Archer, would you come to sickbay, please?"

"On my way."

A few minutes later, John stepped into sickbay to find Phlox and Trip looking at the scan results.

"What have you found, Doctor?"

"This is really a most ingenious invention, Captain. The implant, as you know, was injected into Commander Tucker in its purest form, a chemical compound; I've detected at least six elements in the commander's blood. Very soon after that, it attached itself to the Autonomic Nervous System."

"That doesn't sound like good news!" John interjected.

Trip's response to his friend's somewhat guarded reaction was a rolling of the eyes in exasperation. "Ya think?"

"Indeed not, Captain. The ANS governs the human body's functions that are not consciously directed, for example, breathing, and the continued electrical contraction of the heart. These are things we take for granted, but on which our very existence depends. At present, the implant isn't interfering with Commander Tucker's physiology, but I don't know for how long that will continue."

"Ok Trip, you're staying here where the Doctor can keep an eye on you. If this thing starts messing with you, it would be better if you were within easy reach of help."

Trip's expressions were an open book, a mixture of anxiety and determination.

"Cap'n, I'm ok, honestly. At the first sign of **anythin**' happenin', I'll report to the Doc. An' I'm gonna call in each mornin' anyway. Sir, if this thing's gonna blow my brains out, I'd rather go…on active duty."

John took in his friend's pleading eyes and his heart went out to him. He knew Trip had to be frightened by what might happen, and being allowed to continue in his work was probably the only thing keeping him going.

"Ok, Trip, but I don't want you alone at any time."

"Cap'n that could get kinda embarrassin' for a guy," Trip blushed furiously.

"Get over it! Even when you have to answer the call of nature, somebody will wait outside for you. What if your heart decided to stop while you were alone, or you couldn't breathe? And as for sleeping arrangements…you've two choices: Dr Phlox moves in with you, or you move in here, with him."

Trip squirmed with embarrassment. "I guess I'm bunkin' in here, Doc. I hope ya don't snore!"

TBC

Please read and review, kind people. Thank you.


	6. Chapter six

CHAPTER SIX

Three days had elapsed since the ship had started on its new heading. So far, nothing untoward had happened to Trip, apart from a deterioration in his normal good humour. He would be the first to admit that he tended to get cranky if he didn't get adequate sleep, and he was having a great deal of difficulty in relaxing on the biobed in sickbay.

_'I've spent **way** too much time in here, as it is, without sleepin' in here, too,'_ he thought to himself.

The biobed was a lot narrower, higher and less comfortable than his bunk, and more than once Trip had found himself on the floor, having rolled over too far.

The noise was another problem; Phlox required little or no sleep and tended to regard the wee small hours as just another part of the day to continue his work and hobbies. He had chatted and chirped to his menagerie of exotic pets, until Trip had eventually yelled at him to 'gimme a break!'

The doctor had been momentarily alarmed, thinking the commander was unwell, but had then remembered that his guest was only human and needed sleep to recharge his mind and body.

"So sorry, Commander, I'll be right next door should you need me."

"Some chance of that," Trip had muttered, tiredly.

With that, Phlox had withdrawn to the glazed area beyond the biobeds. That way, he was able to observe his guest without being observed, himself.

__________

Now, as Trip sat at his desk in Engineering, he shook his head to clear the fog that sleep-deprivation was causing. He was having difficulty in focussing on the schematics he was trying to study. Thinking a cup of coffee would help, he made his way along the quiet corridors to the mess hall, smiling tiredly as he saw that Crewman Rostov was tailing him at a discreet distance.

At the drinks dispenser, he sagged wearily against the wall as he waited for his coffee.

"Commander, are you alright?" His Chief's pallor concerned Rostov.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Want a piece of advice, Rostov? Don't change your name to 'Tucker', 'cause there are people out there who've declared open season on the Tuckers, an' don't try sleepin' in sickbay. Come on, let's get back. I don't know about you, but I've got a whole heap of work to do…Oh, I forgot, **I'm** your current assignment!"

The crewman had the good grace to redden under his commander's gaze. Trip sighed as he blew across the scalding drink, and made his way back to Engineering. There wasn't any point in getting angry with the man for following the captain's orders.

"Trip, how are things down here?" 

John had arrived whilst Trip was out of the department. As he took in the engineer's pale face, he was concerned. Trip's desk was piled high with work, and although he was normally a workaholic, just right now he needed to be taking things a bit easier. Trip gave him a weary grin.

"Just fine, Cap'n. The engines are purrin' like kittens."

"And you?"

"I don't go in for purrin' much, it tends to alarm the crew. But, I'm bearin' up, thanks."

The fact that he was having difficulty in bringing the captain into sharp focus was something he was going to keep to himself, otherwise he knew he'd be spending more than just nights on a biobed.

"Can't you delegate some of this work?"

"Jus' keepin' busy, Cap'n. I won't overdo it, I promise."

John gave him a sceptical look, but dropped the subject and clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Ok, but take it easy, huh?"

Trip gave his trademark quick, dipping nod and with a worried sigh, John left engineering. He called into sickbay to talk with Phlox.

"Commander Tucker left without an examination, this morning. I had been called away to the mess hall where chef required treatment for what turned out to be a minor injury. You know how much he's given to histrionics; anyone would have thought his life was in danger. Whilst I was away, the commander took the opportunity to slip away. I was just about to hail him, and I'll let you know my findings after I've examined him."

____________

On the bridge, T'Pol occupied the command chair, looking intensely at the starry expanse visible through the main viewer. There was something about the view that puzzled her, but as yet, it was intangible. This inability to define annoyed her and her delicate eyebrow arched.

John exited the turbo-lift and appeared at her elbow. As she rose to relinquish the chair, she indicated the viewer.

"Does anything appear unusual, Captain?"

John studied the stars, a perplexed frown on his brow.

"What exactly am I supposed to be looking for, T'Pol?"

"Something out of place. I am unable to explain any further, Captain."

She moved across to the Science station and activated the scanner. Studying intently for a few moments, she suddenly raised her head and addressed Tactical.

"Polarise the hull plating!"

"Sir?" Malcolm looked to the captain for guidance.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant. T'Pol, care to fill us in?"

Before the Vulcan had a chance to reply, a ship decloaked in front of them, and fired repeatedly. They were caught flat-footed, the speed of the attack leaving no room for return fire. Had it not been for T'Pol's sudden statement, things would have been very ugly. The hull plating protected them from serious damage, but the ship rocked heavily under the repeated bombardment. Circuits blew with great displays of fireworks, smoke belched from disrupted panels, and the klaxons blared throughout the ship.

John had been fortunate to have been sitting when the attack had begun, but others hadn't been so lucky. Malcolm had been thrown across his weapons console, but appeared to be just winded, but T'Pol was picking herself off the deck, a nasty cut oozing blood steadily above her eye. Travis had grabbed fiercely to the edge of the helm console and now struggled to bring the ship under control again.

"All hands, battle stations!" John yelled into the intercom. "Malcolm, can you get a lock on anything?"

"The sensors took a hammering. They'll need recalibrating, Captain. I can try, but I couldn't guarantee I'd actually hit anything."

"Give it your best shot, it's better than nothing. Try aiming for their weapons and main propulsion."

Malcolm bent over his console and fired off the forward phase cannons. Two shots ripped out from Enterprise's bow, but one went wide of its target. The other found a target and Malcolm looked up with satisfaction.

"That connected with their propulsion, Captain, but I'm afraid their weapons are still on line. They've been slowed down, but probably not too seriously."

"Ok, let's not hang around, then. Take a reading of their warp signature in case we encounter them again, then let's put some space between us. Travis, warp five, resume heading. I guess we've just had our first encounter with the people who don't want Commander Tucker to reach his destination."

John turned to regard his second in command. "Sub-commander, might I suggest you pay a visit to sickbay?" He indicated the area above his own eyebrow when she gave him a slightly quizzical look.

T'Pol put her hand to her forehead and was surprised when the fingers came away sticky with green blood. She nodded in agreement and headed for the turbo-lift as John started to check all decks for injuries and damage. The call from Engineering sent an unexpected emotional reaction through her. She had to admit to herself that she was worried for the commander, and the attack would probably give his department an extra workload.

"Captain, we got badly tossed around, down here…well, the commander did, anyway. He's just been taken to sickbay."

TBC

Thank you, kind people, for all your reviews. Every one is helpful, even the critical ones.


	7. chapter seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

John desperately wanted to go, personally, to check on Trip, but with an enemy vessel on their tail and a ship to put back together, he knew his first responsibility was to stay on the bridge. It would serve no one if their pursuers caught up with them.

"T'Pol, get down there and have your head fixed, then let me know how things are." He didn't need to elaborate any further.

T'Pol headed straight for sickbay as soon as the lift stopped. She was surprised to hear the commander's voice, raised and annoyed, as she entered.

"Doc, I'm tellin' ya, I'm ok. I got knocked off my feet an' got a little bump on my head. Now, I've got a whole mess of things to fix in Engineerin' an' we don't wanna be late arrivin' at our destination, do we? Ya remember, 'kaboom'?"

"How could I forget, Commander? However, you've suffered a mild concussion and may experience headaches. I strongly advise that you take some rest, but I know you too well for that, so be sure to come back if you require further analgesia."

Phlox looked up to address the newcomer. "Ah, Sub-commander, you have also received a bump on the head. I trust you will be less vocal and more co-operative than Commander Tucker."

T'Pol crossed to the biobed that Trip was sitting on, his legs dangling over the edge. She took in his pinpoint pupils and pallor, and again experienced that emotional surge. She had to admit to herself that living amongst these humans was having a detrimental effect on her self-control. She would have to increase her meditation time.

"Commander, you do not look well. Perhaps you should return to your quarters and allow your engineering team to effect the repairs without you."

"For the last time, I'm ok, I just need to keep workin'. An' ya don't look so good yourself, T'Pol."

"Vulcan physiology is much more adept at dealing with injury, Commander. I merely require the doctor's assistance to seal the abrasion."

"Yeah, well I've some doctorin' of my own to do, so if y'll excuse me. An' tell the cap'n to quit shakin' us around like that, somethin' might come loose."

T'Pol felt like saying that most likely something **had** already come loose, between his ears, but the commander, that most quixotically infuriating of all the humans on board, was off with a grin and a wave. Both Phlox and T'Pol expelled sighs as he exited.

Phlox turned his attention to T'Pol's head wound, sealing it efficiently.

"There we are, Sub-commander, as good as new, it won't even leave a scar."

"Thank you, Doctor." She paused briefly. "I realise that doctors take an oath to protect their patients' confidentiality, but the captain asked me to inform him of Commander Tucker's condition. I do not believe he is as well as he pretends."

Phlox nodded glumly, not his usual jovial self. He handed T'Pol a padd.

"As you know most of the details, confidentiality doesn't apply in this case. This implant is starting to cause problems, not that the commander is admitting to that fact. I have to be devious in the way I question him, as he's very good at masking his symptoms. However, he might hide pain from my scanner, but not facts. The commander is having difficulty in focussing and his balance is becoming impaired. According to Crewman Rostov, the shaking we all experienced knocked Mr Tucker off his feet as easily as if he'd been a child."

"I also was knocked off my feet, Doctor. That in itself is inconclusive."

Phlox nodded in acknowledgement of her words. "Agreed, but the fact remains that his balance is compromised, and Engineering is a hazardous place to be if you become dizzy."

T'Pol regarded the doctor intently. "Do you wish me to have the captain confine Commander Tucker to his quarters?"

"I don't imagine he would go quietly! We'll just have to keep an even closer eye on him."

^*^*^*^*^*^

The ship had been very fortunate, indeed, that the Science Officer had called for the hull plating to be polarised. The damage could have been much worse. As it was, a few systems were off-line, needing to be re-calibrated, and crew injuries had been minor. Some of the crew had been in the mess hall, and had sustained minor burns when their soup had landed unexpectedly in their laps. Phlox had assigned Ensign Cutler to deal with the injuries.

T'Pol exited the turbo-lift as she returned to the bridge and found the captain assessing her.

"How's your head, Sub-Commander?"

"I am quite well, thank you Captain. However, there is a matter I would like to discuss with you."

John gestured for her to precede him to the ready-room. "Malcolm, hold the fort."

"Aye, sir."

John ushered T'Pol to a seat and she perched on the edge, her back ramrod stiff.

"Ok, T'Pol, I'm curious to know how you knew to polarise the hull at exactly the right moment? Not that I'm complaining!"

"If you will recall, I was studying the stars, suspicious that something was amiss. I finally realised that the part of the expanse I was looking at didn't contain any stars, and the logical explanation was a cloaked ship. I therefore deduced that if a vessel was as close as that and cloaked, their intentions would be hostile."

John let his breath go in a whoosh.

"Phew, good reasoning, T'Pol. Thanks, you saved our hides."

T'Pol's eyebrow rose. "The safety of the ship is paramount for our continued survival, Captain. Your thanks is not necessary."

John let it go, aware that he wouldn't get any further with that conversation.

"So what had Phlox to say about Trip? Was he keeping him in sickbay?"

"Commander Tucker was leaving as I arrived, and refused both the Doctor's and my advice to rest. The alien implant is starting to affect his balance and his eyesight. He stated that he planned to return to Engineering. He does not look well, Captain."

John looked sharply at his First Officer's face. As usual it was an impassive mask, but the words betrayed her.

"You sound concerned, T'Pol. That's not very Vulcan of you."

"Vulcans do experience many emotions, one of which is concern for others, Captain. The fact that we do not allow our emotions to govern our lives enables us to exercise greater control. I am concerned for the well being of the entire crew, but Commander Tucker's circumstances are different. You should try to make him rest."

John stood up with a sigh and crossed to gaze out at the stars.

"Short of ordering him to, I don't think I'll be too successful, and right now, keeping active's important to him. But I'll go have a chat with him, see if I can't make him slow down a bit. You have the bridge."

^*^*^*^*^*^

The accident, when it happened, might have been just that if Trip had been on top form, physically, but he had to admit that his blurred vision was getting worse, and his heart was racing.

_'Get a grip on yourself, Tucker,'_ he scolded himself silently, pushing his body beyond the safety margin he'd promised the captain he wouldn't cross. Taking a deep breath, and even that seemed to require a conscious effort, he climbed the access ladder up the side of the warp reactor. He knew he should get Kelly or Rostov to check the valves, but he hated admitting to himself that something was wrong with him. He'd always prided himself in his physique, regularly exercising in Enterprise's well-equipped gym, and now that his body was starting to let him down, he chose to ignore the signs.

Up on the gantry, John had just entered Engineering and was looking around for the Chief Engineer. He enquired of his whereabouts from a passing crewman, and was horrified to spot him clambering about on the reactor. He was about to call out when, as if in slow motion, he saw Trip lose his footing, make a futile grab for the ladder, and fall in a heap to the deck, a drop of ten feet.

Certain that his friend had perished, John's feet barely touched the steps as he hurried over. Several of the Engineering crew had already reached their fallen Commander and were carefully checking him for a pulse. Crewman Kelly rushed to the intercom.

"Engineering to sickbay."

"Phlox speaking."

"Doctor, Commander Tucker's had a nasty fall. Can you come right away?"

"I'm on my way, crewman. Don't attempt to move him."

John knelt beside the still form of his friend, fearful of what he'd find. Outwardly there wasn't much to be seen, a bruise or two already forming, but no bones sticking out through skin, and as he watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Trip's chest, John sat back on his heels in relief.

Phlox bustled in followed by two orderlies carrying a stretcher. The doctor bent over his patient, running a scanner over Trip's body. He looked up at the captain's worried face.

"I was afraid something like this would happen, Captain, but you know how headstrong Commander Tucker can be. Let's get him to sickbay, and hopefully it's not as grim as it sounds."

Phlox supervised the careful transfer of his patient and followed the orderlies out of Engineering. John turned to reassure the crew.

"Ok folks, just try to carry on with your work. Rostov, have Lieutenant Hess report for duty."

"Aye sir, and will you let us know…about the Chief?"

John nodded, understanding their concern. "Just as soon as I know anything…"

By the time John reached sickbay, Trip had already been loaded into the scanner and Phlox was studying the read-outs. The captain paced back and forth, fretfully. Trip hadn't regained consciousness and Phlox wasn't saying anything at all.

The engineer's inert body was retrieved from the scanner and gently placed on a biobed, where the monitors hummed into life. John couldn't wait any longer.

"Doctor, for pity's sake, tell me **something**!"

Phlox looked sympathetically at the captain. He knew the bond between these two humans was a strong fraternal one, and the captain's concern was almost palpable.

"He's lucky to be alive, Captain. No serious organ damage, just a bit of bruising around the right kidney. But he does have a hairline skull fracture and four fractured ribs, all on the right side from the way he fell. As for his neurological condition, this accident allows me to keep him heavily sedated. Ordinarily with a head injury, I'd be reluctant to do so, but the implant is beginning to affect not only his balance, but also his breathing. How soon will we reach our destination?"

The sudden change in topics momentarily startled the captain. "If we've no further interference, and I hope to God we don't, we should be there in 20 hours. Why do you ask?"

"Because at the rate of decay, I'd say that within 12 hours, I'll need to place Commander Tucker on life support."

TBC

Please read and review. All criticism welcomed. From constructive criticism comes growth.


	8. Chapter eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Phlox had been slightly generous with his estimation of time: it had in fact been only 8 hours before Trip's laboured breathing had necessitated life support. The doctor had kept him sedated throughout, carefully monitoring his biosigns, and making a note of the neurological changes. Finally, as he'd watched his patient's exhaustion deepen, he'd intervened.

"Phlox to Captain Archer."

"Go ahead, Doctor." John replied, his mouth as dry as dust.

"I'm placing Commander Tucker on life support now, Captain. I can, of course, maintain him physically on that, indefinitely, but if we are to prevent further neurological damage, we need to have this implant removed, sooner rather than later."

"Ok, just do what you can for him. Let me know of any changes."

John was in his quarters when the call came through from sickbay. He pondered for some time as to whether he should put a call through to Trip's family. Was it fair to burden them now, if there was even a glimmer of a chance that he'd pull through? And paradoxically, was it fair to **not** tell them if he wasn't going to make it? Sighing deeply, he fingered the button on the wall.

"Personal log, continued: Dr Phlox has taken the decision to place Commander Tucker on life support for as long as is deemed necessary. We are presently at Warp 5, ETA 12 hours from Hensa. So far, there haven't been any further attacks from our unknown assailants, but I can't help thinking that the attack must have something to do with the information Commander Tucker is carrying. I would like to commend Sub-Commander T'Pol for her quick thinking and continued loyal support. Since the attack, she has only briefly left her post, and continues to scan for the alien vessel's warp signature. It was only her timely intervention which saved the ship…Pause log."

John sat on the bed and fondled Porthos' floppy ears, lost briefly in a moment of carefree joy as he imagined them strolling along through a flower-filled field. There was nothing that Jonathon Archer would rather be than the starship captain that he was, but occasionally the weight of responsibility was almost too heavy to carry. The buzzing of the intercom brought him out of his reverie.

"Captain Archer, please report to the bridge."

When he entered, five minutes later, he could sense the change in the bridge crew. Travis was usually so boyishly enthusiastic about everything; Hoshi was gradually enjoying space a little more with each passing day; Malcolm was as always stiff-upper-lipped reserve; and T'Pol, as hard to read as ever. But now, as he looked at their faces, everyone, even T'Pol, was showing strain and concern. On a vessel the size of Enterprise, the grapevine worked feverishly fast, and he didn't need to tell them about Trip; their faces spoke volumes.

T'Pol smoothed her face back to its normal blank canvas. "Captain, we have Hensa on our long range scanners. Do you wish to hail them?"

"No, for now I think we'll keep our arrival a secret. I don't want to give Mendos' name out until we know whom we can trust. There might be factions on the planet that don't want the commander's information to reach its destination. Find out all you can about the people of the planet…language…appearance…clothing. When we get within range, a landing party will have to transport to the surface."

John scrutinised his Science Officer. T'Pol had remained at her post since the alien vessel had attacked, apart from her brief visit to sickbay, and although she often reminded them that Vulcans required less sleep, he felt that she needed a break.

He spoke gently to her, prepared to quash any arguments. "T'Pol, let Hoshi handle the investigating of Hensa, it's well within her abilities. I'd like you to be 100% fit for duty when we arrive, and for that to happen, you need to take a few hours rest. Meditate, sleep, whatever it takes, but I'm ordering you to relinquish your post."

T'Pol could feel tiredness tugging at her resolve, and realised the logic of the captain's argument.

"Very well, Captain, I will indeed spend some time in meditation. Please call me if you require me to resume my duties."

^*^*^*^*^*^

T'Pol had spent 2 hours relaxing in quiet, undisturbed meditation, and felt much refreshed. At first, she'd had more difficulty than usual in shutting out all thoughts of her fellow crewmembers. She could understand the concerns and anxieties they were all expressing: fear for their stricken colleague and for the journey ahead. 

Now that she was refreshed, she resolved to visit the commander in order to quell her own…'concerns' was perhaps inaccurate, but she was certainly aware that she did share the crew's hopes for a full recovery of the popular engineer. He could be a most infuriating human, seeming to effortlessly annoy her at every opportunity, and yet she secretly enjoyed their verbal spats, especially when she gained the upper hand, leaving him speechless. 

If he were to…die, or even lose his mental faculties, she would miss him most sincerely. These thoughts unsettled her, as she realised that she didn't have the same feelings for the captain, or any of the others. She respected Captain Archer, and was totally loyal to him, but it was the Chief Engineer she looked for on entering a room; she didn't always seek him out for conversation, but merely acknowledged to herself that he was there.

Of course, he could usually be heard long before he was seen, amusing all around him with tales of derring-do, and T'Pol accepted that his continued presence was essential for crew morale. 

With little effort, she found herself making her way to sickbay. Inside, the lights were dimmed and the single occupant was lying still on the biobed, surrounded by the paraphernalia essential to keep him alive. Phlox looked up from his patient to regard his visitor.

"Sub-Commander, is there something I can do for you? Are you suffering from you head injury?"

"Thank you, I am quite well, I came to see how the commander is."

"I've been giving him stimulants in order to keep his neural pathways active, but there's only so much I can safely inject him with, so we have to provide external stimuli. And so I've been my usual garrulous self. I'm quite sure that when Commander Tucker awakens from this…adventure…he'll not want to hear me talking for a long time. Now that you're here, perhaps you would like to spend some time with him. Talk to him. I'm certain that another voice will be a welcome change for him."

"Why would I talk to him? He is unable to respond."

"That's right, but it is a firmly held belief that even in a deeply unconscious state, we can still hear the spoken word. Many a coma patient has rallied to the sound of a loved-one's voice."

"I hardly think I qualify for that category, Doctor."

"I know he regards you as a good friend. Encourage him to hold on, to keep fighting."

T'Pol was unnerved to be asked to do this, but short of a flat refusal, she didn't see how she could get out of it.

"What should I talk about?"

"Anything at all. Let's see, his favourite subjects are Warp engines, food and baseball, so pick something from that list, or choose something yourself."

Phlox grabbed the opportunity to move away whilst T'Pol sat with a perplexed look upon her countenance. He was beyond earshot, but close enough to keep vigil over his patient.

T'Pol's eyes held a slightly startled look, but she took a deep breath and stood beside the bed, looking down at the gentle face of a…friend. She admired the contours of his face, his strong jaw and soft lips, the blond eyelashes that were closed over his blue eyes; he'd called eyes the 'windows of the soul'…Mentally, she berated herself for her lack of discipline, at allowing herself to indulge in what she'd overheard Ensign Sato refer to as a daydream.

"Commander Tucker, Dr Phlox has asked me to talk to you. I must tell you that your condition is placing great emotional strain on the entire crew."

She paused as she thought how her words sounded too much like a reprimand. It was true that the commander had a cavalier attitude towards his own safety at times, but he could hardly be held responsible for his present predicament. She tried a different tack. Her voice softened as she continued.

"The crew need you, Commander, you must not give in to your infirmity. If you succumb, Captain Archer will be overcome with grief, as will many of your fellow crewmen. They have come to depend on you not only for your engineering expertise, but also for your ability to lift their moods."

She was warming to her task now, a faint flush appearing on her throat. Phlox observed her changing appearance with interest, but said nothing and continued to keep his distance.

T'Pol continued. "Last night, the captain refused his steak, and I have been informed that that is a sign of his concern for you. Indeed, I have noticed this loss of appetite affecting other crewmembers, too. You must therefore recover, not only for your own sake, but also for that of the crew. Lieutenant Reed is experiencing difficulty in sleeping, as is Ensign Sato, and efficiency is down by 12%. Lieutenant Hess is an adequate deputy, but she lacks the leadership your job demands. Your continued absence from Engineering means that efficiency there is also effected."

T'Pol stopped when she realised that the doctor was standing across the bed from her, looking with interest at Trip's EEG.

"Very good, Sub-Commander, whatever you've said, it was most certainly stimulating. You must continue."

T'Pol straightened her shoulders and clasped her hands behind her. "I must return to my post, Doctor. However, I will endeavour to return at the end of my shift. Please excuse me."

She looked down at the sleeping form of the man she was coming to regard as a friend. He suddenly seemed very young and vulnerable, all of his usual bravado a sham. On a whim, she gently touched his hand with hers, surprising not only the doctor, but also herself. Turning away abruptly to keep Phlox from seeing that her composure was unstable, she walked out of sickbay."

"Fascinating!" Phlox observed, behind her retreating back. "And who said that Vulcans were emotionless?"

TBC

Please read and review, thank you.


	9. chapter nine

CHAPTER NINE        

They had made good time to Hensa with no signs, as yet of the vessel, which had attacked them, and had just entered standard orbit when Hoshi spoke.

"Captain, we're being hailed."

"From the planet?"

"No sir, from a ship."

They hadn't detected any vessels on their approach. John's eyebrow rose in a fair facsimile of his Science Officer's. This cloaking technology might prove to be their downfall.

"Ok, put it through, and somebody find that ship!"

Malcolm touched a few buttons on his console, checking the sensor array for anomalies, and the enemy vessel suddenly appeared. It was much larger than Enterprise, and his sensors picked up heavy armaments.

"They could blow us out of the sky, Captain!" Malcolm whispered. John nodded grimly. He would have to be as diplomatic as all of his Starfleet training had ever prepared him for.

At first, the dialogue coming through was unintelligible. The view screen showed an alien, seated on what appeared to be the bridge of his vessel. His appearance was mostly humanoid with a few minor alterations: he possessed no ears, making the smoothness of his head seem strange, and his skin was a normal pink but scaly, and his eyes were a vivid green shade.

"Hoshi, are you getting anywhere with a translation?" John asked.

"Yes sir, just about got it."

Suddenly the foreign words manifested themselves into understandable English. John took a gap in the alien's diatribe to put in his own two cents' worth.

"I'm Jonathon Archer, captain of the earth exploration vessel Enterprise."

"Captain Archer, you are in violation of Hensaran space. My sources also tell me that you are in possession of rebel intelligence information, which I demand that you hand over immediately."

John had guessed that Trip's time-bomb might indeed be rebel information, but now wasn't the time to be getting into the pedantics about who had the rights to the facts. He just hoped this man wasn't of the 'shoot first, ask questions later' brigade. He signed to Hoshi to block the transmission, and turned to T'Pol.

"You and Malcolm stop off at the quartermaster's and see if he's got your costumes ready. Transport to the surface and find Mendos, and get him up here with his blasted code. I'll try to stall these guys for as long as I can."

^*^*^*^*^*^

The away team had been on Hensa for 20 minutes now, twenty minutes during which they had managed to avoid coming into contact with any figures of authority. Their quartermaster had kitted them out in reasonably accurate clothing, and if they kept their heads covered by hoods and their eyes down, they could pass as Hensaran from a distance.

The alien on the space station had given them the co-ordinates of Mendos' house, but he wasn't home. T'Pol took in the unsophisticated dwellings, and observed that any citizens she saw passing nearby seemed poorly clad. She deduced that this was where those who had fewer possessions would reside, and it seemed to be in keeping with the image of rebel fighters, struggling to overcome oppression. She and Malcolm moved away from the door, unaware that they were being scrutinised from the shadows.

T'Pol brought out her communicator from the folds of her cloak.

"Captain, we have failed to locate Mendos at these co-ordinates. We will continue to look for him. What is your current situation?"

"We're still talking, or maybe that should be 'arguing', because we're not getting anywhere, fast. But on the plus side, they haven't opened fire…yet."

"This appears to be a relatively primitive society, Captain. Perhaps, if you were to re-calibrate the ship's sensors, your protagonist might not be as formidable as he appears. They may be hoping to intimidate you into handing over your information by having you believe they can out-gun Enterprise." 

"Ok, keep looking and keep in touch."

T'Pol was stowing away her communicator when she heard a startled 'Oh!' from Malcolm.

"Er, Sub-Commander, we have a situation here."

T'Pol's eyebrow rose as she took in the lieutenant's rigid stance, and the two aliens standing very close to him. One had a weapon pushed against Malcolm's side. As she debated her next action, a third alien approached her from behind, pressing a weapon into her back. The far from gentle prodding indicated the direction the two officers were to take and they found themselves herded into a dimly lit room.

"Who are you looking for, strangers?"

"A friend asked us to locate a man named Mendos. We've come a long way expressly to see him." T'Pol kept her voice flat and unthreatening.

"Why do you want to see the doctor? You're not from around here, your accent is wrong."

Malcolm rolled his eyes as he wondered what they'd make of his clipped English vowels.

"No, we're from…out of town…but we have a friend who's sick, and we were told that Dr Mendos could help him."

The three Hensarans exchanged looks of caution.

"Tell us who sent you here to find the doctor, or we can't help you."

Malcolm was all for telling them nothing, but T'Pol remembered Commander Tucker hanging onto life by a thread, and knew that time was against them.

"We do not know his name, only that he made contact with us on a space station, and directed us here. Our friend is in dire need of the doctor's assistance. Our journey took so long, he's dying."

The aliens debated silently for a moment before one of them crossed the room and opened a door set into the corner.

"Come on out, Doctor. I think they're from Fisan. Perhaps all isn't lost after all."

A small, stooped Hensaran emerged from the other room, blinking suspiciously at the newcomers.

"Where is the information Fisan gave you? Is one of you the courier?"

"Comm…our friend who's sick is your courier. The implant is making him ill. We were told you had the key to safely remove it. Please collect it and accompany us, there is no time to waste." T'Pol seemed less in control than usual, Malcolm thought, as he listened to her monotone speech. He'd begun to notice a subtle change in the sub-commander when Trip's name was mentioned.

He was brought out of his musings by the dry sarcasm of the small doctor.

"I'm not about to leave with total strangers. What kind of fool do you take me for? You could be working for the Establishment for all we know. The courier must come here."

Malcolm lost his patience. "The courier, as you're so fond of calling him, is on life support because of your blasted implant. He can't come to you, so 'the mountain's going to have to go to Mohammed'. Now please hurry. If this information's as important as we've been led to believe, important enough to risk a man's life over, I suggest we get going."

Mendos drew himself up straight to seem taller. "You talk of risking one man's life! We're all risking our lives every day, trying to free our people from this despotic regime. This information that your friend has will help to save thousands of lives."

"NOT IF IT IMPLODES!" Malcolm was on the verge of striking someone, anyone. 

"Agreed, you have a point. It would be a shame to lose the information now. Where is your landing craft?"

T'Pol thought the lieutenant was restraining himself remarkably well, considering that he spent as much time as he did with their volatile chief engineer. But even she acknowledged the harshness of Mendos' words as he spoke of the tragedy of the lost information, rather than the tragedy of losing their friend. She took a deep breath to control her anger.

"We had to transport to the surface, our vessel is being confronted by a Hensaran ship." She activated her communicator and hailed the captain.

"We have located Dr Mendos, Captain. If you are able, might I suggest that you transport us up?"

"Hold on, T'Pol, we're a little busy here. They're charging weapons…sorry, Sub-Commander, we'll have to get back to you."

TBC

Please read and review, thanks. Constructive criticism helps us to grow.


	10. chapter ten

CHAPTER TEN

On the bridge, Jon had ordered the hull plating to be polarised, but the ship still rocked heavily from the violent encounter. The crew were tossed about and he watched in sympathy as they picked themselves painfully off the deck.

"Everybody ok?"

Heads nodded as they maintained their posts, faces pinched with anxiety. Jon turned to Ensign York, deputising at Tactical.

"Can you target their weapons array?"

"I'm trying, sir, but I can't get a lock. The readings are all over the place, it doesn't make any sense."

Jon suddenly recalled T'Pol's suggestion that the alien vessel may be using a distortion field to emit an exaggerated image.

"Re-calibrate again, and keep doing it until the sensors recognise what's out there, then get a lock and fire."

"Sir, that could take hours!"

"You got somewhere to go, Ensign?"

York noted the tone in the captain's voice and turned back to his console.

"Sorry sir. I'll get right on it."

Jon thought it was time for a pep talk with his bridge crew. "Ok people, the enemy is smaller but more manoeuvrable, so we're in for a bumpy ride until we can outsmart them. Maintain your posts, Commander Tucker and I are counting on you. Travis, time for some fancy flying. Make us the hardest moving target they've ever tried to hit."

Travis gave a huge grin in spite of the tension. "YES SIR!"

The intercom sputtered to life beside the captain. "Phlox to Captain Archer."

Jon's heart missed a beat. "Archer, go ahead Doctor."

"Captain, I'm sure that you're doing everything possible to terminate the attack we've just engaged in."

"Your point, Doctor?"

"This continued assault is playing havoc with the delicate equipment in sickbay, not to mention that the lurching of the deck makes it hard to continue one's work."

"Have you been injured?"

"Not I, thankfully, but I've had to strap Commander Tucker to his biobed for fear of him being thrown off, and Ensign Cutler has sprained her wrist."

"Sorry, Doc, but as you said, we're doing everything we can. Let me know if you're having any power fluctuations and I'll re-route what I can. On the plus side, the away team has found our contact, and we'll have them on board as soon as possible."

"That's splendid news, Captain. I'll let Commander Tucker know immediately."

Jon smiled sadly at the doctor's words. He knew that Phlox talked to his coma patients, but how he longed for Trip to open his eyes, give his trademark cheeky grin, and reassure him that he was fine. Maybe soon…

^*^*^*^*^*^

"Doctor, a patrol is checking houses in the next street. Perhaps they've picked up the transmission signal from the communicator. It's not safe to stay here."

One of Mendos' companions had gone outside to reconnoitre. Mendos explained the situation to the two officers.

"Our Resistance party is constantly being hounded. When the authorities **do** catch any of us, it's not pretty. A mock trial takes place behind closed doors, swiftly followed by a public execution."

"Where I come from, that's called a Kangaroo Court," Malcolm interjected.

T'Pol spoke. "Logic would dictate that we should re-locate, Doctor, but I must risk a further communiqué with the captain to advise him of our situation, and suggest that he maintains radio silence."

"Agreed, but let's do that as we move. That'll make it harder for them to triangulate the signal's source."

Mendos' aides checked the street before the party moved out, hugging the walls and staying in the shadows. After several twists and turns, and about 10 minutes of scurrying from one shadow to the next, they arrived at their new safe house. T'Pol had made brief contact with the ship, but Hoshi had breathlessly informed them that Enterprise was under attack and still couldn't use the transporter.

"We will have to wait and hide, Doctor. This may take some time."

TBC

Sorry this was a bit on the short side, but reviews welcome.


	11. chapter eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Three hours had elapsed, the longest three hours of Malcolm Reed's life, as they moved away from the search parties time and again. They were now back inside the old quarters of the town, taking a risk by hiding in a building that had already been searched. 

Malcolm couldn't help but wonder how Trip was holding up, and what was happening to the ship. During their last communication, he'd longed to suggest to T'Pol that she enquire after the commander, but he knew they'd had to keep their transmission as brief as possible to avoid detection.

"Commander Tucker is a fighter, Lieutenant. Try not to concern yourself about things over which you have no control."

T'Pol's voice startled him out of his ruminations. He'd forgotten that Vulcans possessed a degree of telepathy. He tried a smile, but it felt half-hearted.

T'Pol was glad that Lieutenant Reed didn't share her telepathic abilities, or he would have felt her own turmoil as she thought of the commander. She worried that the delay would prove to be his undoing, and she had to steel herself not to contact the ship and demand to be transported.

"Do you think they're ok, Sub-Commander?" Malcolm interrupted her thoughts.

"We must hope so, Lieutenant, as the alternative is unacceptable. Should our vessel be destroyed, we would be stranded here with an outnumbered Resistance party. Our survival chances would be slim."

"Trip should add you to his list of 'grim reapers'. Captain Archer is a fine tactician. I'm sure he'll find a way to defeat the enemy."

"Agreed. I believe we should attempt to contact the ship again. Given the time lapse, they may be in a position to assist us now."

She flipped open her communicator and spoke softly. The answer to her hail was the sweetest sound Malcolm had ever heard.

"Enterprise, go ahead Sub-Commander."

"Captain, were you successful in battle?"

Jon's voice carried a half laugh as he thought of the somewhat illogical question. Had they been unsuccessful, would he be answering?

"Yes, eventually we were able to get a lock on their true configuration. Their engines were definitely less sophisticated but that didn't stop them from running rings around us. We just had to have patience until we could target their propulsion and weapons arrays. So, if you've all had enough of dodging the militia, you can come on home."

^*^*^*^*^*^

"Captain, do you really think it's wise to let this man inject even more chemicals into Commander Tucker?" Malcolm asked, anxious for the man who lay deathly pale before them.

Mendos looked at each of the two men. "Captain, you asked me to remove the implant. This chemical I'm preparing is the code to do just that. It is imperative that I be allowed to continue."

"Ok, go ahead."

Jon, Malcolm, T'Pol and Phlox stood around Trip's biobed as Mendos touched his neck with a hypospray. T'Pol was disconcerted with her lack of composure as she looked at the young engineer, so close to death. His skin had taken on a translucent quality, almost as if his blood had been drained, and the dark shadows under his eyes, together with several days' beard, seemed to make him gaunt. Mendos looked up from his patient.

"There won't be any visible response for several hours. The changes taking place are physiological. Analysis of Commander Tucker's blood will tell us when the implant can be safely removed. I'll remain here with Dr Phlox, and as soon as there's anything to tell you, you will be informed."

He turned his back on the officers, taking readings from Trip's biosigns. Jon was more than a little miffed by the alien's attitude. This was his friend, his ship, but he was being made to feel as if he was in the way. Sighing, he turned to Malcolm and T'Pol.

"I'll be on the bridge. Post a guard outside this door, and then get some rest, both of you. You've had a long day."

"I will remain here, Captain. I may be of some help to Dr Phlox." T'Pol spoke with determination. Jon regarded her, half suspecting that he saw concern on her normally composed face.

Jon nodded his head in weary gratitude for the offer; another friendly face for Trip to see, if and when he awakened, would be welcome.

As the two men left sickbay, T'Pol sat beside Trip's bed, watching the monitors intently. She recalled being in a similar position less than 14 hours ago, when Phlox had encouraged her to talk to the commander. Tentatively, she touched his cold hand with her soft warm one, as if she could breathe life into him through physical contact.

"Commander, the implant will be removed from you very soon, and then you must come back to us. Your time to leave is not yet here." She spoke softly, her words inaudible beyond the bed. 

Phlox watched her lips moving, her hand still resting on the human's. He thought they made an enchanting couple, but it was highly unlikely that anything more than friendship would develop between two such strong-willed characters. For sure, the Sub-commander **was** here by his bedside when she could have been resting, but their normally volatile relationship seemed to make the possibility of romance remote. How much more simple was the Denobulan way of love. Still, he was fascinated by inter-species relationships, and he would keep a close eye on this one, nurturing it in any way he could, providing they both survived!

TBC

Please read and review, thank you. And I promise more of Trip soon. He's had to take a back seat for a couple of chapters. (Well, he **is** unconscious, after all.)


	12. chapter twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

Four hours had elapsed since Mendos had injected the code catalyst. During that time, he and Phlox had run copious tests on Commander Tucker's blood, talking between themselves over the results. Jon had spoken to Phlox at hourly intervals, anxious for progress reports, only to be spoken to kindly but regretfully informed of little change.

Now, it seemed, things were happening. Phlox was fascinated by the whole process and watched as Mendos extracted yet another blood sample from Trip's arm, an arm, like it's twin that was already bruised from so many bloodlettings. Carefully carrying his trophy to the old-style microscope that Phlox had amongst his possessions, Mendos squinted to view the results.

"Ah, excellent, it's here and seems to be intact. Doctor, would you care to see?"

"Why thank you, I would indeed. At least I'll get to look at the cause of all of this trouble."

Phlox changed places with Mendos and adjusted the settings for his eyesight.

"Tell me if I'm looking at the right thing…I see Commander Tucker's blood components, and what appears to be a marker attached to several of the red cells. Am I correct?"

"Quite so, Doctor. Well done, they're not that easy to detect. We developed this means of transporting our information and then of course had to make it as difficult as possible for our enemies to be able to get their hands on it. When this slide is fully analysed by a computer programme, the information it contains will be as easy to read as the printed word."

"And what of the commander, now that the implant has been removed?" T'Pol suddenly spoke from her bedside vigil, startling the two men who, intensely engrossed in their work, had forgotten she was there.

Mendos regarded the young human on the bed. 

"The neurological changes of a human body are unknown to me. However, from what Dr Phlox tells me, we were just in time to prevent permanent damage. If your Commander Tucker wants to live, the rest is up to him."

TBC

Please read and review. Sorry this one was short, again, but we're nearly home.


	13. Chapter thirteen

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jon and Mendos were in his ready room together with Malcolm and T'Pol. Mendos was anxious to get back to Hensa with his newly retrieved information, but he had one last request of Captain Archer.

"Although this data will certainly change our fortunes in the war, if you were to help us, Captain, our struggle would take half the time. Your vessel is so much more sophisticated than anything Hensa has to offer, that you could overpower the government forces in the blink of an eye."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but we're explorers, not guerrillas. We've become involved in your fight through no choice of our own, and now that you've got your information, I can only wish you well in your struggle, but I have to decline your request."

Jon extended his hand and grasped that of the doctor. He watched with a degree of sadness as the Hensaran was escorted to the transporter. He knew that T'Pol still felt his actions in helping to free Sulibans from the Tandoran prison camps had been foolish, and how many times had that come back to haunt him? This time, he wasn't going to give her an opportunity to question his motives.

"You have the bridge, Sub-Commander, I'll be in sickbay if I'm needed. Have Travis take us out of orbit and head somewhere nice and boring."

T'Pol's raised eyebrow was her only outward response. To herself, she admitted that she wanted to be able to visit the commander, but her shift wasn't over yet, and the captain hadn't had much opportunity to spend with his friend. Perhaps the captain's presence would aid Commander Tucker's recovery.

^*^*^*^*^*^

"How's he doing, Doc?"  Jon was standing by Trip's bedside, watching as Phlox tidied away some medical equipment.

"Better. I've weaned him off life support and he's maintaining his breathing quite nicely."

"So why isn't he waking up?"

"I'm quite certain that he will, Captain, I simply can't tell you when. Why don't you sit with him, tell him about today's events. Words are a great stimulus; the Sub-Commander was most effective at this."

"T'Pol spent time here, talking to Trip?" Jon couldn't keep the surprise from his voice, or his face.

"Yes indeed, Captain, the Sub-Commander has visited Commander Tucker on several occasions. I believe there may be an understanding between them that even they aren't aware of."

"Are you trying to tell me that they're attracted to each other? Trip and T'Pol, who can barely exchange civilities? Come off it, Doc, you've been spending too much time watching the 'weepies' on movie nights."

"I didn't say anything about them being attracted, Captain, those are your words. I merely observe inter-species interactions, and from what I've seen over the past few days, I'd say our young Science Officer is developing a…fondness for Commander Tucker. Perhaps it has been brought to the fore by his close shave with death. Facing our mortality tends to shake us all in different ways."

Jon was about to say more on the subject, but he was interrupted by a soft moan from the man on the bed.

"Is he coming round, Doc?"

Phlox examined the printouts above Trip's head and ran a scanner over his body.

"He is indeed, Captain. Slowly, but a definite start towards consciousness. Talk to him; help him find his way back. I'll be just over there should you need me." Phlox moved away to his workbench.

Jon felt somewhat self-conscious talking out loud to his unconscious friend, but if Phlox thought it would help, he was game. He pulled up a seat.

"Hey, buddy, it's about time you got back to us. It's all over, time for you to get on with your life, all you have to do is open your eyes. The ship needs her Chief Engineer back…heck, we **all** do. Even T'Pol misses you. Meal times have been way too quiet."

He continued on in the same vein for some time, watching Trip's relaxed face for any sign of waking.

After an eternity, but in effect less than an hour, Trip started to respond. Phlox was at his side instantly. At first, Trip struggled to keep his eyes open, and when he mastered that, he saw two blurred images hovering over him. Blinking to focus, the faces of the captain and Phlox came into sharper view. Jon was grinning at him, and Phlox's slightly unnerving smile almost split his face in two.

"Hey there, glad to have you back." Jon touched him lightly on the shoulder.

Trip cleared his parched throat and tried to move the lump of wood his tongue had morphed into.

"Hi Cap'n," he whispered, too much effort to speak any louder.

"Commander, how are you feeling?" Phlox boomed.

Trip winced as the doctor's enthusiastic voice rattled his senses. "Washed out," he managed.

"I'm sure you do, indeed. However, with plenty of rest, my prognosis is for a full recovery. Another day or two as my guest and I'll be happy to release you to your quarters."

^*^*^*^*^*^

True to his word, Phlox was ready to release Trip from sickbay 24 hours later. The engineer was a difficult patient who always managed to try even the Denobulan's geniality. T'Pol paid a visit to sickbay, just as Phlox was lecturing his recalcitrant patient.

"You are under strict orders to take another 5 days off, Commander. If I find that you've disobeyed medical advice, I'll recommend that the captain throws you into the brig."

"I will see to it that Commander Tucker complies with your orders, Doctor," T'Pol vowed.

Trip looked at her warily. "An' just exactly how d'ya propose to do that?"

"You have not yet fully recovered your strength from all that your body endured. It would be a simple matter for me to overpower you."

Phlox fought hard to stifle a grin. Trip had no such difficulty.

"Oh yeah?" 

His voice was challengingly belligerent, and he was quite prepared for full-scale war, but something stopped him in his tracks. A sudden image flashed before him, of his body lying inert on the biobed, and T'Pol impulsively touching his hand. He looked up at her, startled by his recollection, and a quick grin lit up his boyish face.

"It's ok, T'Pol, I'll give in. I'm still kinda sore an' tired, anyway, an' a few days'

R 'n' R will do just fine. Besides, the way I see it, you always were stronger than me."

END

Well that's it, I hope you liked it. Please read and review, all comments are welcome. It's how we grow.


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